All Of Us

When I first moved to Santa Fe in 1989 and enamored of the newness and enchantment of it all (which I’ve never lost, by the way..),

..as the holidays rolled around each year I would choose a church to visit for the Christmas Eve service.

This activity REALLY surprised me as I am certainly not a regular church goer.

But somehow, as the Solstice comes upon us, I hunger for the sacred experienced as a group instead of my usual tendency of prayer in solitude.

I want to sit, stand, kneel next to another human and smell incense and raise my voice and settle into a sweet harmony with my neighbor beside me.

I want the structured time for drinking in the coming light.

It keeps happening each year, this winding down of Nature and in it’s due time, SHE PROMISES TO WAKE ONCE AGAIN!

Thrilling, when you think about it..

As the years rolled by and my yearly ‘church picks’ never really eased my yearning for community of a particular sort during the holidays,

I stopped looking there for solace.

I see that there is a distinct thread of the pagan in me.

I’ve traded the cathedral for a Native American dance in the frigid cold of an early morning.

I sing alot to my dog.

I practice marking the moon cycles with made-up ritual.

I light beautiful lights in my home.

I share a deeply reverent marking of the actual Solstice with friends.

I turn my eye to those less fortunate.

The sorrow I feel is the recognition we have become SO VERY ADEPT in our individuation process.

My life is a perfect example.

But what of it?

Where is the real opportunity to harmonize with my neighbor?

I don’t even know their names….

Leaving a bottle of wine on their doorstep as a thank you for the kindness they’ve extended over the year feels dry and lazy.

I miss the midnight walk through the snow headed toward the lit up cathedral and shuffling into cramped quarters with the dank smell of wet wool and eyes around me softened by the inner truth of the very real presence of some benevolent force much larger than our selves.